


a flower for me, a bouquet for you

by markothy



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Piercings, Slow Burn, Tattoos, guess you can say their love BLOOMS, johnny just needs a job, lapslock, more of nct ensemble coming in later chapters, taeil is an unconventional florist, the rest of nct ensemble will make appearances in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markothy/pseuds/markothy
Summary: johnny's desperate need for a job is what brings him to a quaint, corner flower shop just a few blocks east of his apartment. the door opens easily with a friendly chime as johnny ducks into the store. as expected for a flower shop, vases, various decorations and antiques, and dozens, upon dozens, of ready-made bouquets and other arrangements line every display, floor to ceiling. the overwhelming flowery scent attacks johnny’s senses, and he already feels his eyes sting and water, but he wills the sensation away. job first, allergies later.





	a flower for me, a bouquet for you

**Author's Note:**

> 4 hours ago...  
> me: i feel like writing what should i write  
> kim: florist au  
> me: elaborate  
> kim: well .
> 
> as always, thank you kim (@feb9ths) for being the recipient of my story ideas AND beta reading this once i got it all down. you're the best!
> 
> i'm going to regret starting a series and leaving, but this will probably be my last big hoopla before the new semester consumes my life force. please enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _fern - magic; fascination_

johnny is in desperate need for a job. after being let go from his previous job, there hasn’t been much he could do about the bills piling up at home. sure, he has roommates, and splitting the rent is what they’re for, but they’ve been so good to him the past month he’s been trying to find another place to work and he can’t imagine letting them down.

this desperate need for a job is what brings him to a quaint, corner flower shop just a few blocks east of his apartment. the door opens easily with a friendly chime as johnny ducks into the store. as expected for a flower shop, vases, various decorations and antiques, and dozens, upon dozens, of ready-made bouquets and other arrangements line every display, floor to ceiling. the overwhelming flowery scent attacks johnny’s senses, and he already feels his eyes sting and water, but he wills the sensation away. job first, allergies later.

“uh... hello?” he calls out. a muffled voice rings from somewhere beyond, most likely from a back room, so he heads for the counter situated in the back. making his way through the floral jungle, johnny ducks and dodges hanging plants and leaves sprouting from potted, indoor palms until he reaches the counter. the door behind the counter swings open, providing an incredibly short man - at least a head shorter than himself, johnny thinks - who moves to greet him from behind the register, which, from what johnny can see, could be pawned off as an antique itself. clearly, they didn’t take credit here. the smaller man introduces himself as the manager, and, well, the only employee of this establishment, but johnny infers that last bit by himself. he’s outfitted in a clean, pastel polo under an equally pastel apron stamped with the store logo on the chest. he’s got a sweet, shy smile that makes johnny’s heart jump, but there’s something off about this florist, something _different_ from what you’d expect of a florist.

the man, taeil, if the embroidered name on the apron is anything to go by, is totally and wholly inked. sleeves, mostly depicting flowers, roses, peonies, and several others johnny can’t even begin to name, and a playful mix of geometric shapes, spiral up and down his arms, continuing onto his hands, vague words he can’t make out scribbled in between his fingers, and further beyond the skin available to the eye. johnny, longer than he wants to admit, thinks about asking to see the rest of them. it didn’t stop there, though, oh no, johnny wishes it stopped there. after a good look at the florist’s (very cute, in johnny’s educated opinion) face, he notices several things - adorning his left eyebrow are a pair of tiny, metal studs. lower, modest, obsidian plugs with flowers delicately carved into the otherwise smooth stone accompanied by several more mismatched piercings johnny can’t identify further up his ears, and even lower, a simple, silver and captive beaded opal septum, a twisted, silver nose ring, and a spiked barbell jestrum piercing. those are all the piercings johnny can see, but he has a feeling that, just like the tattoos, there’s bound to be more somewhere.

in other words, the man looks _very_ (deliciously, in johnny’s educated, _unbiased_ opinion) out of place in a shop selling buds and blooms. it doesn't offend johnny, no, not by any means (truthfully, it made the man even _more_ cutely attractive), but it _does_ catch his eye and he’s distracted for a spell, just drinking in the tiny man’s appearance, because wow… _fuck_. taeil must feel his gaze, because he coughs and shifts awkwardly, and johnny realizes he just gave this poor flower shop employee the most intense up-down while he’s just trying to get through his day. he pretends not to notice the quirk in the employee’s brow, smirk threatening to break his commercial smile.

johnny’s brain comes back online, just in time to ask taeil about the job posting he, thankfully, saw outside by pure chance. little does he know, the poor manager is just as desperate to hire extra help as johnny is to get a job, so with little hesitation, taeil chirps out, “okay! if you’re interested, let’s just skip the application and i’ll take you for an interview right now.”

feeling slightly suspicious, johnny meekly follows taeil through the door behind the counter into the backroom. it’s not dingy or messy in the slightest - definitely not a place to be worried about getting murdered in. however, the room is crowded with crates and other boxes that appear to contain gardening equipment and other items he assumes are necessary for flower survival. in one corner, against the room’s only window, there’s a steel desk that’s absolutely covered in bills and other paperwork & office supplies - heh, reminds him of his own set up at home. along the windowsill, several different potted plants make themselves at home, leaves and vines spilling every which way out of their pots, stretching through the open window towards the natural light shining into the otherwise dusk-dimmed room. actually, now that johnny properly surveys the room, there’s _many_ plants. as he enters, johnny has to duck his head out of the way because there’s a couple of hanging planters above the doorway. they’re obviously suited for taeil’s height, since the shorter has no problem breezing past them (or under them) at all. johnny identifies one of them as a spider plant, recognizing it as a plant his grandma always used to have, except this one is trimmed and much, much more taken care of.

against the far wall, there’s a few industrial-looking shelves anchored, and in the center of the room, the space that’s not taken up by plants or their necessities, is a couple of couches, upholstered like the 70s, and a coffee table fashioned from leftover wood pallets.

“careful of ginger,” taeil softly chides as he sifts through the papers littering his desk. “he’s being fussy with his pot - hasn’t liked the past 8 i’ve put him in.”

johnny stands there, giving the room a once-over to figure out who- or what- the fuck ‘ginger’ is.

“oh,” taeil continues his thought. “you can take a seat over there on the couch, mr. uhh…”

“please, call me johnny,” the taller provides. johnny situates himself on one of the two couches, the one facing the door they came in from, and waits patiently, looking curiously around this room full of oddities. surprisingly, from his seat, he can see a pair of dishes tucked away into the corner just beyond the desk, one polka-dotted green, the other a simple white accented with a single pawprint on the front.

he’ll have to ask about that later, though, because taeil is approaching from his desk, soundlessly taking a seat on the couch opposite johnny, with a clipboard, pen string-attached and dangling, in hand.

“hi,” taeil says, smiling softly as their eyes meet, which johnny makes an awkward effort to return. he then points to somewhere off to johnny’s left. “that’s ginger, by the way.” following the gesture, johnny finally meets ginger - a fairly decent sized, fern-looking plant sitting in a pot to the left of johnny’s couch. “he’s a boston fern,” taeil informs proudly.

“oh! uh - well, nice to meet you, ginger,” johnny lamely greets the plant. he’ll try to deduce why a plant would be picky about its pot later, he thinks to himself. and why he found it necessary to wave at the plant as he greeted it - well, _him_.

“so, i’ll have to go over the specifications of the position eventually, but first,” taeil starts, smoothing down the hem of the apron that’s currently riding up his lap before looking back up with another shy smile, dangly earrings clicking together as he moves, “tell me about yourself, johnny.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanna talk or yell at me, my twitter is [here](https://twitter.com/shiiningfive) and my curiouscat is [here](https://curiouscat.me/shiiningfive)!


End file.
